


What I Like About You

by Inky_Blackheart



Series: I Wanna Know What Love Is (I Want You to Show Me) [2]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Airplanes, Anxiety Attacks, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fantastic Four Cameos, High School, Horny Teenagers, Identity Reveal, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Secret Identity, Star Trek References, Travel, X-Men References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22248304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_Blackheart/pseuds/Inky_Blackheart
Summary: It turns out, Flash realizes, that there's a lot to like about Peter Parker.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Flash Thompson
Series: I Wanna Know What Love Is (I Want You to Show Me) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601593
Comments: 21
Kudos: 177





	1. Keep on Whispering in My Ear

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Love, Love, Love (Things I hate about you). Can stand alone, but things will make more sense if you read the previous story. 
> 
> I wasn't going to do a sequel, and then I saw Spiderman: Far From Home and this idea has been percolating in my noggin since summer. I hope you enjoy this follow-up adventure, featuring two giant dorks in love. 
> 
> Actually in love. No pretending to hate each other this time.

**One: Keep on whispering in my ear**

Peter Parker, as far as Flash is concerned, doesn't talk to him enough.

Flash checks his phone as he stumbled down the stairs. _When did the world get so bright?_ He wonders, head pounding rhythmically and sinuses screaming in agony. His eyes felt heavy. How did eyes feel heavy?  He trips over the bottom step, missing the slightly warped wood, his heel catching the little overhang and sending his body forward.  Flash catches himself on the wall but still manages to skid on the hardwood floor leading from the stairs to the kitchen. His head spins as his body flails, his ears already ringing from waking up from a mid-morning nap. His fluffy slippers are starting to become a pain. Almost as much of a pain as waiting for his boyfriend to text him back.

Once he finally rights himself he tightens his Spiderman bathrobe and resumes his search for chicken noodle soup. Flash's mother always leaves some in the back corner of the cupboard for just this reason. "I'm sick of hearing, physician, heal thyself," she likes to say. "We get sick,  just  like anyone else."  Flash realizes how much he takes constant access to vitamin C and electrolytes for granted. His phone chirps in his pocket. Flash winces. _When did the world get loud, too?_ Upon finding a distinct lack of chicken soup, he decides on spicy Thai chicken and a slice of toast.  Maybe he could clear out his sinuses with the spice, even if it made his stomach absolutely miserable.

If it's not Peter, he's not answering. Peter needs to start talking to him more. Soup first, though.

After pouring the soup into the pot, his phone chirps again. He clumsily pulls the device out of his pocket, smiling when he sees the screen. “That sucks, babe. Wish you were here” followed by a gif of a crying puppy, and then a very nice selfie of Peter on the bus. Flash takes a picture of himself in his robe, with his bedhead, stirring his soup. “You should ditch the field trip and come take care of me.” He sets his phone on the counter for ease of grabbing.

The message goes through. Flash turns back to his soup, humming to himself.

His phone chirps again.  Expecting a selfie, or something equally cute, he picks it up quickly, face falling immediately when he sees that it's not a message from Peter. Half his class is blowing up his phone, even Abraham,  surprisingly. They all say the same thing: dude, you have to turn on the TV. Something crazy is going down. It’s aliens. No response from Peter.

Flash groans and wanders over to the TV, fumbling when he tries to turn it on. “Oh. My. God.” The remote clatters to the floor. A giant spinning wheel floats in the air, looming over New York like a dark cloud. Or an evil donut. He spots the school bus in the corner of the news footage and feels even sicker. _Peter,_ he thinks, _oh my god, Peter_. He tries to phone his boyfriend, but his call goes to voicemail. He tries again. The same. Peter needs to talk to him. He needs to hear his voice.  The bridge was still intact and the bus was still there, though his classmates were streaming out in a panicked single file line  . Why wasn’t Peter picking up?  Maybe  his phone  was trampled  during the rush from the bus?  Maybe  Peter  is trampled ?

Flash flops onto the couch, unable to summon the energy to pace. He sneezes. His chills return in full force. He feels frozen in front of the screen, watching the donut of death come closer, firing lasers into the New York sky. Flash remembers the Chitari invasion eight years prior.  He'd been a terrified child then, hiding under his parent's covers, Jesse clinging to him with small shaking arms. Now he was a terrified teenager, but things would be okay. He didn't know then that the Avengers would stop the invaders, but he knew that now.  His parents were probably on their way home, and the family would be together, and they would just watch another heroic battle above the city.  Maybe  Spiderman would be there.

The ship starts to leave. Flash breathes a sigh of relief. All he needs now is to hear from Peter. His anxiety won't go down until he hears his voice.

Flash feels his phone vibrate and chime. He looks down. Peter called him back, but he hadn’t heard it ring, even though he’d turned it up to the highest volume. At least there was a voicemail, even if he’d missed the call. He keys in his voicemail password, his fingers slipping. All he needs is to hear Peter’s voice. It makes him feel warm inside like everything is going to be okay.

"Hey, babe. I mean, Flash. Eugene. I...I can't do this. No, I have to. I can't leave without saying goodbye. I have a lot to tell you, and I don't know how. I'm no good at this. I'm the worst."

Flash’s confusion rises. Peter could be weird, and a little flaky, but this was next level. He leans forward as if Peter were in front of him, talking to him.  He tries to imagine his boyfriend on the opposite couch, his elegant hands (Flash had been paying attention in English) balling the fabric on his knees, biting his soft lips, looking everywhere but him.

“I guess first...I’m Spiderman.”

Flash drops the phone.  Luckily, Peter had gone silent and sputtered after that so he doesn’t miss anything important while he tries to pick up the device. “That's so...ugh, okay. Remember the field trip in grade nine, where we went to OsCorp? Remember the spiders? Why am I talking like you can talk back? Get it together Peter. Anyway, I got bitten by one of those spiders and I got powers. I'm not a mutant or anything, not like J. J. J. says. Not that there's anything wrong with mutants. I know a few. They're pretty cool, and that's...not the point. I only have a few more minutes until I get too far into the atmosphere to send this through."

Atmosphere? What the hell?

“That’s why I leave randomly, and cancel plans without warning, and why you can’t find me when things go wrong. So I guess I, Spider-Man, do know Peter Parker. You better apologize to Ned.” Peter laughs nervously on the recording. “I have to help Mr. Stark. Iron-Man. I’m on that evil donut thingy. I can’t just ...I have to help him, you know? I have all this power, and I need to use it to help others. I don’t know if I’m coming back.” Peter’s voice breaks. He sounds like he's a few moments away from sobbing. “I’m so scared, babe, but I have to do this. I didn’t want...I have to protect you. And the whole Earth. If these alien jerks succeed you could die, and I can’t let that happen. And I knew that if I heard your voice, or May’s, I wouldn’t be able to go. So I wanted you to know where I went, and that I wanted to keep you safe. Because...”

Flash knows that a heart doesn't stop, not like in a movie or book, but damn, does he feel like it lurches to a halt.

"I love you, Flash Thompson," Peter says, his voice calm and clear. "I love you so much, and if nothing else...I wanted you to know that.  I know you wanted us to stop saying it because it was immature and we don’t really know and all that stuff but I still feel that way, you know? I know in my heart that you feel the same.” Flash hears a long metallic clanging and a low whine. “Okay, almost in. I have to go, Flash. I’m going to do my best to save you. I love you. Goodbye.” The line goes dead.

Flash crumples. Somehow, his flu doesn't matter anymore. All he wants is Peter. He wants to scream and cry and rage, settling for lying on the couch in the fetal position. Tears run down his face. His emotions contradict each other and his thoughts are so loud. Loud and bright. Loud and bright.

Peter loved him, and yeah, he loved him back, but he kind of hates him right now.  Peter being Spider-Man was probably the best thing ever but being Spider-Man took him away from him. Peter was gone. Peter loved him and he was gone. All he wanted was to talk to Peter, and now he couldn't. Now Peter may never talk to him again.

Later, he watches his own hand turn to dust and looks up at his parents with terror in his disintegrating eyes. He realizes that Peter failed. He only hopes that, wherever he's about to end up, Peter wouldn’t be there with him. He’d tried, damn it, and that to count for something. Peter’s life was worth more than turning to dust on some alien planet alone.

Flash reaches for his mother, his hand sliding through hers, before vanishing completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BWAHAHAHA
> 
> Why yes, I am back on my bullshit.
> 
> I know, I know, this first chapter is a little bit mean. Fear not, for chapter two is a mixture of angst and fluff. I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> And we've got a soundtrack! Find it here at: https://bit.ly/381d2ok


	2. Tell Me all the Things that I Wanna Hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash and Peter return to existence, and to each other.

**Two: Tell Me all the Things that I Wanna Hear**

Flash returns in the same place he vanished from: on the floor, halfway between the kitchen and the living room. When he reappears his mother shrieks and drops her coffee mug, the terror in her eyes so familiar he isn't sure he'd even left at all. He picks himself up and smiles at her, trying to reassure her. "Hi, Mom. I'm not dead?"

Dr. Thompson throws her arms around her son, cutting the bottom of her foot in her rush over. “My baby,” she coos, “my baby.”

Some teenage girl walks into the kitchen and starts screaming too. She bolts over and wraps both Flash and his mother in a crushing hug. It takes Flash a few moments to recognize his own sister. She was 5 foot nothing when he last saw her, and she’s grown to a respectable 5’7. And, of course, hit puberty, but he didn’t want to think too hard about that. “What the hell happened to you, Jesse?” He jokes, kissing the top of her head. “You grew up overnight!”

“It's been five years, darling." His mother says quietly. "You've been gone for five years."

If his mother and sister weren’t holding him up, Flash would collapse completely.

#

Flash is filled in over his first meal in apparently five years. Some guy named Thanos used magic rocks to kill people in what some people were calling the snap and what others were calling the blip. Then the world had to cope with potential environmental collapse, a mass panic, and unbelievable grief. Half the Avengers were gone, even. Obliterated. Then they'd saved everyone. Again. They'd done something and fixed it. Except now Iron-Man was dead and Captain America was MIA. Jesse heard a rumour that he moved back to Brooklyn or something.

Flash sops up the last of his curry with a thick slice of naan. His first meal back is the best thing he’s ever tasted, but he can’t eat another bite. He flops back in his chair, looking at the ceiling and contemplating what he’s heard. “That sounds terrible. Geez. I can’t even...thinking about it makes my brain hurt.”

“It was awful.” Dr. Thompson tells him, sipping her lukewarm coffee. “We watched you die, and then we watched the world nearly collapse.” She pats his hand. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

“It makes no sense, and my brain hurts too,” Flash’s father says, having left work as soon as he was told his son returned, “but we’ll take it.”

His mother grabs his plate before he can stand up. He protests, but she gives him a signature Mom look, fixing him to his chair. “We’ll figure out school and everything in the morning, dearest. You just worry about resting, okay?”

“And Peter.” Jesse sing-songs.

“Oh yes! Peter was...blipped as well." Dr. Thompson clears his throat. He'd been awkward about their relationship, but maybe five years had softened him. "His aunt was just devastated. We brought her some food a couple of times. Did that for a few of the kid's families."

“Really? That’s awesome!”

“A lot of your classmates aren’t as well off as we are. It was the least we could do.” Dr. Thompson has a small smile of pride on his face. “But thank you.”

Flash remembers Peter again. He’d said something similar in his voicemail. “Gotta do our part, right Dad?”

“That’s right, son. And it’s ‘we’ve got to’.”

“Ugh, don’t start talking about English yet! Let me re-acclimatize and stuff. Jeez.” Flash can’t keep the smile from his face. Five years gone, and his parents are still the same. Jesse is taller, a lot taller, but she’s the same. When Ralph got in tomorrow, he’d probably be the same too. It isn’t quite like he’d never been gone at all, because he had the rest of the world to deal with still, but at least his small circle is still warm and bright and perfect.

After dinner, he tries to call Peter. All he wants to hear is Peter's voice, just hear him tell him that everything is alright and they're still okay and maybe he wants to hear the L-word directly from him. But the call goes straight to voicemail.

Huh. Well then.

#

Flash calls Peter daily for a week and a half before he gets a response. He almost misses it, engrossed in five years of television that he’d missed, but he hears the tail end of his ringtone over the Game of Thrones opening. “Peter?”

"Hey, Flash," Peter says nervously. "Uh..."

“What the hell, Peter!?” Flash yells. Jesse pokes her head in, meets his eyes and sees Flash yelling at his phone, covered in chips, and wisely backs straight out of the room. She disappears upstairs and mutters about boys being “dramatic”. “I’ve been calling you for a week!”

“And a half,” Peter adds.

“And that makes it better?”

“No,” Peter sighs, “it doesn’t.”

“Then what, and I can’t stress this enough, the hell? You left me that voicemail right before the blip and now you won’t even talk to me? Did you even mean it?”

“Of course I did.”

“You’re not acting like it,” Flash snaps.

Peter gets quiet. For a few seconds, Flash worries he’d hung up. “Mr. Stark died.”

Things start to make sense. “I’m sorry. I know he was your friend.”

Flash can hear the rustling of Peter rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve and the crackling of him reaching for a tissue. He goes quiet. For a few seconds, Flash worries he's hung up. "Mr. Stark died. I was upstate for the funeral, in his old house." Peter starts to sniffle and croak. "Everyone was there, it was so busy I didn't even have time..." He lets out a sound somewhere between a sob and a shriek. "Everyone kept telling me that they knew how much he meant to me, but they don't, you know? They don't know him the same way I did, they don't know how I feel!"

Suddenly, things start to make sense. Flash runs a hand through his hair. The feeling of his fingers on his scalp grounds him. All his anger leaves him in one exhale. “I’m sorry. You’ve probably been hearing this all week, and I don’t know what you’re going through, either, but I know he was your friend. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks." Flash can hear that Peter is trying to smile through the tears, but the hitch in his voice gives away the pain he's still feeling. "It hurts so much. He died saving everyone. Ms. Potts, I guess Mrs. Stark, gave me this picture of us and she said he looked at it real sad all the time, and that she wanted me to have it, and I can't look at it. If I had just been better, the blip wouldn't have happened and he'd still be alive and you wouldn't have been blipped and everything would have been fine..."

“Stop.” Flash sighs. “Just, stop.”

Peter lets out a high-pitched whine. “Okay,” he squeaks.

“You can't blame yourself for this, Pete. You didn't do this. Mr. Stark was a grown adult and he made his own decisions. You can't tell me you wouldn't do the same." Peter makes a little sound like he's trying to take a deep breath without breathing into the mic, but he stays quiet. Flash feels a tinge of self-satisfaction. Peter, and he loves the guy, never, ever shuts up. "You're a good person, Peter. No one else I know would have flown out into space and tried to punch space-Grimace."

“How do you know what Thanos looks like? I didn’t think they showed pictures on the news.”

“Thor drew a picture in an Instagram story yesterday.”

“Thor has Instagram?”

“And he’s in a feud with some dude named Ninja over a game about forts. Babe, we’ve missed so much.” Flash finds himself smiling. This was comfortable, it was familiar.

Peter chuckles. “I know, right?” He lets out a deep breath, not bothering to hide it anymore. “I’m sorry I started blubbering like that.”

“Pete, it’s okay to be sad. Mr. Stark meant a lot to you. But beating yourself up over it won’t do you any good.”

“I know, I know.” Peter sighs. “Can I see you? Please?”

Finally. “Yeah, of course. Where...”

“What about that park, by your house? I can swing over and be there really fast.”

...now his constant use of that pun makes sense. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

“Yeah," Peter replies, sounding exhausted. "I'll see you, soon."

It’s not really what he wants to hear, but he’ll take it.

#

Flash is relieved to see that his walking playlist is still on his phone. His Mom hadn’t thrown in out or recycled it when he was blipped. She kept it charged so she could look through his old pictures (and hopefully not his search history). She’d taken it in, got some minutes on it, and he was back in business. The music acts as a buffer for the crisp early November wind. He crunches through the odd leaves on the ground as the wind scatters them across the pavement. His softest scarf is a little loose around his neck and his windbreaker jacket isn’t quite wind-breaking enough, but he refuses to wear his winter coat. He’s lost enough good weather as it ss, returning in the late fall and all.

Flash finds his favourite bench in the deserted park right under a grove of elm trees. The remaining dry leaves are a faded brown. It won't be long until winter arrives in New York City. He tucks his hands in his pockets and rapidly clicks off "Estranged" by Guns N Roses. It's too real. He cranks "I Want You to Want Me" by Cheap Trick instead and stares at his feet.

What did you even say in these situations, he wonders? "Hi, I love you, why did you leave me, why didn't you call me, how did I not notice that you were Spider-Man because looking back now it's really obvious..." Nothing sounds right. Everything sounds so stupid. How can we even talk if I can’t find the freaking words?!

He notices Peter’s worn-out New Balances before he hears the gentle call of his name. Flash pulls his headphones out and stares up at Peter Parker, the Spider-Man, his boyfriend.

His hair is adorably mussed, likely due to the beanie in his hands. It seems a little longer than when they’d last seen each other. It’s because, Flash realizes, Peter isn't wearing any product in his hair, so it's not slicked back or puffed up. His eyes are red and baggy, but they’re still beautiful. God, he’s so beautiful. Peter’s lips quirk into a small smile upon seeing him but fall at the expression on Flash’s face. Flash feels bad but he can’t control his face. He isn’t sure if he’s happy or not. Peter looks so different than the background of his lock screen. He looks a little broken, just a little bit haunted.

_Please, baby. Tell me you’re okay. Tell me we’re fine. Tell me something good._

“Hey,” Peter says, voice barely above a whisper. “I like your scarf. Looks soft.”

“Hey.”

“You still look cold, though.” Peter looks at the beanie in his fingerless gloves, then to Flash’s head. He pulls the thick wool over Flash’s wavy black curls, tugging it down until it covers his ears. “There you go. Better?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, looking into Peter’s eyes like he was seeing them for the first time. “Nice and toasty.”

Peter was still Peter. Peter, who Flash held when he cried about his uncle. Peter, who corrected his English homework, who needed his help in math. Peter, who had soft hair and soft lips and very hard abs. Peter, who had beautiful eyes. Peter, who loved him.

“Good," Peter replies, mouth twitching like he can’t decide if he wants to smile or not. He licks his lips and moves in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around Flash like he’s afraid he'll float away. Or disappear with the snap of a finger.

Everything Flash wants to say seems pointless. Actions, in this case, scream out, louder than anything words can say. He throws his arms around Peter’s waist and pulls him closer. Their kiss deepens. Peter tastes like knock-off crest toothpaste and cinnamon gum. His cold nose presses into Flash's warm cheek and everything feels perfect like they were never apart. They only separate when some guy riding his bike past yells a homophobic slur at them. Flash tells him to get blipped and gives him the finger. Peter laughs at that, pulling Flash in for a longer kiss, with even more tongue and teeth.

“I’m still mad at you,” Flash pants, “you’re still a jerk.”

“I know,” Peter says against his lips, moving down to bury his face in his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, but I think I need more kisses to feel better.” Flash waggles his eyebrows. Peter rolls his eyes but acquiesces. This time is more controlled, their mouths and tongues falling into an easy rhythm, letting out little moans and sweet sounds as the heat between them rises. Flash can feel Peter’s spider strength in his grip on his bicep, and it hurts but it’s really, really hot. “Holy shit,” Flash says when they break apart, “I can’t believe my boyfriend is Spider-Man. It’s freaking incredible.”

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say that so loud?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“I like how that’s the part you’re stuck on. Not the whole “I love you” thing.” Peter grins, looking into Flash’s eyes, his hair half in his face. Flash plays with a few of the loose strands.

“I already knew that.” Flash scoffs. “I didn’t know you were my favourite superhero ever.”

“Yeah, that’s a little weird, but flattering. I guess. Spider-Man robe? Fine. Spider-Man underwear? Fine, a little, uh...hot.” Peter says very quietly. “But looking at a picture of myself while making out? I wasn’t prepared. It’s weird.”

“That’s why you kept saying you wanted to go downstairs and watch Star Trek!” So much made sense now. Life made sense now. “Do you get any money from that stuff?”

“I think Mr. Stark licensed it and put it in trust.” Peter looks away.

“I’m sorry,” Flash says, “I’m really sorry.”

“You were right,” Peter admits. “I’d do the same thing, and that’s the worst part. I can’t even be upset. But I am. I wish he was still here.”

“I know. I wish he was still here, and I didn’t even know him. I feel awful for his kid.”

“Me too. I know what it’s like to lose...well, not my father, but close.” Uncle Ben, Flash remembers. “I think she’s going to be okay, and she’ll always know that her dad loved her, but I kind of hate Thanos for forcing him to make that sacrifice.”

“All of us do. He’s a big purple dickhead.” Flash hugs Peter tighter. “It’ll be okay. Mr. Stark’s legacy will always be remembered. If not by the media and his company, by Ms...” It feels so awkward to call her anything but Ms. Potts, but that isn’t right anymore, “Mrs. Stark and his little girl. We’ll get by okay without him. You’re still here, and I know you can protect everyone. Everything is going to be alright.”

“Maybe," Peter concedes. "Maybe." He rests his head on Flash's shoulder.

The weight of Peter’s head on his shoulder is more reassuring than it should have been. It’s warm and he can feel Peter move as he breathes, reminding him that Peter is still alive, still with him. “Never do that again.” Flash blurts. Peter lifts his head. “Please don’t just vanish to do something heroic and probably deadly. Aliens won’t be the only thing you have to worry about.”

"I can't promise that," Peter says resolutely.

“Why not?”

“I’m a superhero. If I don’t stop bad guys with powers or big guns, no one else will.”

“That’s fine. I couldn’t tell you not to stop muggers and guys like that Vulture dude. I mean, like, big threats. Like aliens. Or purple people.”

“Flash...” Peter groans.

“Can you try not to? For like, a few months?”

Peter gives him a long look, then nods. “I can try. You’ll just have to keep a close eye on me, keep me out of trouble.”

"You don't have to worry about that, babe," Flash says. “I’ve been watching you since before we started dating.”

“Do you have any idea how creepy that sounded?”

“...Now that I’ve said it out loud, yeah.” Peter smirks. Flash flops back, looking up into the tree. He can see a pigeon close to the top, staring down at him. “It got cold early this year, didn’t it?”

“It did.” Peter agrees, looking up at the same pigeon. “Want to get out of here? Talk about this stuff somewhere away from homophobic bikers?”

“Yeah,” Flash agrees. Peter stands up, stretching a little bit. “We can go to my place. My parents are watching Canadians renovate stuff on HGTV. We can talk in privacy. And other things. If we want.”

Peter stops. Flash worries for a second that he’s offended Peter, but all he sees is a mischievous smirk. “Let’s swing there. It’ll be much faster. So we can talk sooner.”

“Hell yeah!” Flash fist pumps, gluing himself to Peter’s side. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw that first YouTube video!” Peter laughs, led them down an alley, and shot out a line of web from his wrist. He only gives Flash a peck on the cheek before launching them straight up. Flash wants to puke instantly, but the wind on his face snaps all his senses awake, and the rhythm of flying and falling feels like a roller coaster. He looks up at Peter, who’s smiling just as wide as he cradles Flash to his chest.

It was great to be alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hubby and I were talking the other day and we came to the conclusion: grief is portrayed really shallowly in half the Marvel movies. We don't really see Peter grieve for his uncle, or mention him ever. We see Peter be sad for a few (very well done scenes) in Far from Home, but they don't really go into anything deep with it. So I wanted to at least talk about it here because I can. 
> 
> I also kept referring to beanies as toques, because I'm Canadian and I speak Prime Minister's English. *Oh Canada intensifies*
> 
> We've got a soundtrack! Check it out here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRLIOS3zhRzItx65aGM5R_p0a9nD5D_87 and at Spotify at https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VhtqJXL0FplQYSL2kRVih?si=p6MqqtYiQnaMlNAgNXoXuQ


	3. Wanna Come Over Tonight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Flash have "the talk", despite the fact that neither of them can say "do it" without giggling.

**Three: Wanna Come over Tonight?**

Despite everything, Flash is still glad he came over, no matter how sore he is now or how scared Peter is.

Flash picks at a thread at the corner of Peter's sheets. They're old, well worn, but soft against his bare skin. His kind-of good button-up hangs open on his shoulders, his jeans unzipped and halfway down his thighs. They dig into the flesh of his legs a little painfully, but his half on the bed-half off position is the only comfortable way to sit with his pants down. His Spider-Man underwear is a little tight on the waistband and is starting to leave marks on his skin. It wasn't like this when he bought it, but his boyfriend doesn't seem to care about the weight he's gained. It makes him look more like a man and less like a boy, Peter says.

Peter still wants him to come over for this, after all. That says something.

Peter sits across from him, cross-legged and shirtless with one web-shooter still on (Flash’s request). His sweatpants hug the bottom of his hips and he watches Flash him warily. Flash’s wrists still hurt, but it didn’t look like they were going to bruise. “It’s okay, Peter. Stop staring at me like I’m...I don’t know, a wounded bird or something.”

“I...I could have hurt you. I could have broken both your wrists.” Peter chews his lips. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

Flash sighs. “I’m FINE. They barely even hurt anymore.” They might bruise, but it’s a small price to pay. He glances over at Peter. Even hunched, his boyfriend’s body is perfection. He’s all lean, tight muscle, toned without being bulky. Flash’s own arousal hasn’t decreased at all, despite the dull ache in his wrists. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky and he doesn’t want to pass this up. “But if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

Maybe he should just go home. He drove here himself, he could leave whenever he wanted to. It might not be worth it.

"Do you want to?" Peter raises an eyebrow. Flash feels his cheeks heat. He'd thought about it, dreamt of it, even. They've been dating for a year and a bit, they'd been past holding hands and kissing on the lips for a while. They'd never talked about sex, though. Neither of them could even say "do it" without giggling. It didn't seem like...that stuff was happening anytime soon, before the blip. But maybe it was still too soon. Flash did another pass of Peter's body, eyes lingering on the tent in his pants. No, it wasn't soon enough. They just needed to talk about it more.

“Do you?” Flash counters. Maybe the blip changed things. Both of them had been, for all intents and purposes, dead. It put things into perspective, a bit. Everything could change so quickly. Life was too short not to have...the talk.

Maybe they should have had it earlier than now, half-naked on a bunk bed.

Peter looks down at the comforter in his hands and nods. "Kind of, yeah. I didn't plan on dying a virgin, so if it happens again..."

Flash rolls his eyes. “That can’t be the only...”

"I was joking. I do that when I’m stressed. You watch me, you may have noticed.”

“Touche.”

“I want to. I really want to. Not so I don’t die a virgin again. Because I’m really attracted to you and I want it.” Peter looks up at Flash, smoulder in his eyes. His cheeks are still bright red and he keeps clearing his throat, but he looks extremely attractive. “So, Flash. Do you want me?”

Flash uncrosses his legs and moves his corner of the blanket. “Duh.”

Peter’s eyes get wide. “Oh. Oh my.”

“I think we need to talk a little more, Pete. About what we want to do.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Peter scoots closer. “Like, top or bottom?”

“No, I mean yes, I mean...” Flash sighs. “I mean, what does this mean to our relationship, and stuff.”

“It’s kind of the next step, isn’t it?” Peter moves until he’s right beside Flash, leaning on the opposite side of his bunk-bed. Their shoulders brush. “In our relationship.”

“It is, but...”

“We’re doing this because we love each other and...” Peter blushes and looks away. “We’re also full of hormones and really...ugh, I can’t even...”

“No,” Flash interrupts, “I know what you mean.”

"So we're doing this for the right reasons. Neither of us has ever been with anyone else, so we're okay for STDs and stuff. We bought lube, so that's taken care of. I guess...it'll be different, now. But it'll be fine, right?" Peter asks hopefully, looking up at him with his big blue eyes. Flash is powerless to resist, but that's nothing new.

“You’ll remember your first time forever. Are you sure you want it to be with _me_?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I treated you like shit from when we first met until we started dating?”

“Yeah, but you’re my boyfriend now. It’s kind of cute, in a way. You acted like a kid with a crush.”

“I was a kid with a crush. And now I’m a teenager with a boyfriend.” Flash grins. “You can do so much better than me. You know that, right?”

Peter grabs Flash’s shirt, still unbuttoned and open, and pulls him over top of him. The shirt tears a little and Peter starts to panic, so Flash leans down and slots their lips together. Peter chases after his lips when he pulls away. “No way, Thompson. There’s no such thing.”

Flash is torn between hugging Peter or kissing him more, so he decides to do both. “We still haven’t decided on top or bottom,” he reminds him, biting and tugging on Peter’s bottom lip.

“We better decide quick. May will be home soon-ish, and she’s okay with us having sex, but...”

“It’s so awkward trying to do it – heh – while she’s in the other room.” Flash finishes. “Fine. If I decide I want to stay the night, we could do both, depending on your recovery time. We both...cleaned up.” He grimaces, remembering the coldness of the water, and the weird full-but-empty feeling the drug store enema left him with. At least it was from the nice drugstore by his house, not the one near Peter’s with the weird dude in a white suit who keeps muttering about the moon goddess. The internet said it was a courtesy to do it, and Peter had better appreciate it.

Peter’s eyes darken and his pupils dilate. “I have super-stamina, babe. My recovery time is excellent.”

“So, uh, switch?” Flash asks nervously.

“Switch,” Peter agrees, webbing the lube over from the desk. It isn’t as hot as Flash imagined, but damn if it isn’t convenient. Peter looks at the bottle in his hands. “Think this is going to be enough?”

If Flash wasn’t on the bed, his knees would buckle. “I hope so.” He bites Peter’s neck, making him writhe deliciously under him. Peter’s erection presses into his thigh and he rocks his leg against it, making Peter squirm and buck into the touch. It occurs to Flash, briefly, that he’s about to bone Spider-Man, but he looks down and sees Peter’s bright blue eyes looking up at him and decides that this is even better. “Because I don’t want to leave this room for at least three hours.”

So worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue in my quest to write accurate teenagers by writing teenagers awkwardly fumbling through their first time. 
> 
> And we've got a soundtrack! Find it here at: https://bit.ly/381d2ok


	4. Know You Make Me Feel All Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash and Peter enjoy Venice and each other and don't enjoy...interruptions.

**Four:** **Know you make me feel all right**

Flash's butt is completely and utterly numb and he's only been in the economy class seats for two hours. If he wasn't sitting next to Peter he'd have no armrest, and the only reason he has one at all is that Peter's sleeping body is leaning over the small piece of pokey metal, his perfect head resting on Flash's shoulders. The position can't be comfortable, given that he's resting on both the French-bulldog print travel pillow Flash bought him and Flash's shoulder (and Spider-Man travel pillow). Peter sleeps peacefully, snoring into Flash's headphoned ear. Peter's headphone hangs down, swinging into Flash when he shifts. He turns up the volume on the laptop. Lots of things about Peter are cute. Snoring isn't. His parents thought he was crazy to turn down his first-class seat, but Peter couldn't afford the ticket and wouldn't let Flash pay. _Besides,_ Flash thinks, _looking at Pete’s adorable sleeping face is well worth my sore butt. Mostly._

Even the crap seats feel better with Peter around. Hell, even the turbulence that Peter slept through felt better with his soft, warm head on Flash’s shoulder.

He cranes his neck out to look at the rest of the class. Ned’s holding hands with Betty, of all people, and MJ and Brad are watching a movie that could be funny, could be depressing, but it’s hard to tell because MJ thinks simulated tragedy is hilarious. Mr. Harrington is doing a crossword and Mr. Dell is fast asleep. It’s so normal it’s painful.

He turns back to the laptop. Peter insisted on showing him _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ on the flight over. It was more than enough time for the best episodes, he insisted. On his screen, the robot dude is arguing with the blind dude about...something. He was too caught up in Peter to pay attention. He shifts, moving the laptop closer. Oh, they're arguing about the ethics of...something. He'll have to rewind and see.

His shifting rouses Peter. It's a little funny how that's enough to wake him up, but the plane shaking like a Polaroid picture isn't. Peter blinks himself awake, smiling at Flash. "Hi, babe."

“Hi yourself,” Flash checks to make sure Mr. Harrington is distracted before giving Peter a quick kiss on the lips. He has the beginnings of morning breath but it doesn’t matter. “Tired?”

“M-hmm.” Peter murmurs, nuzzling the side of his neck. “Are we there yet?”

“Nope.” Flash groans. “I don’t know how you can sleep sitting up. Or shaking.”

“One time I tried to see if I could sleep hanging from my ceiling.” Peter rubs his eyes, sliding his headphone back in. “Like a...you know.”

“Could you?”

“I had a headache, but yeah. After that...guess I can sleep anywhere.” Peter looks at the screen and smiles. “Still watching Trek?”

“I didn’t notice you fall asleep,” Flash lies. “So I just left it on.”

“Uh-huh.” Peter clearly doesn’t believe him. He yawns and puts his head back down on Flash’s shoulder. “If I fall asleep, wake me when they come with our meals? Oh, and tell them I want the chicken.”

“Chicken. Got it.” Flash strokes Peter’s cheek as he settled back in.

“Did you get to the episode with Q yet?”

“Nope. They’re discussing the borg, I think.”

“Cool.” Peter yawns and kisses Flash’s hand. He’s back asleep in minutes, the soft snoring returning. Flash considers switching to something else, like the Bachelor seasons he downloaded, but he keeps watching Trek. He wants to see this Q dude. Then he’ll switch. Can’t have people thinking he’s a nerd, after all.

#

“I can’t believe you finished the Next Gen ‘best of’ without me,” whines Peter as they walk up the rickety stairs to their respective rooms.

“You fell asleep, dork. I could rewatch it with you. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Told you that you’d like it,” Peter teases. He’s doing a great job of acting like his bag is too heavy for him, but they both know he could easily punch through concrete.

"I never said I liked it, I said it wasn't bad." Flash shifts his bag to alleviate the pressure on his right shoulder. He moves with the weight of the bag and almost falls down the stairs, his boyfriend's spidey-sense and quick arms the only thing preventing him from rolling down to the first floor. Peter hauls him back up. "That's hot."

Peter blushes. “Behave. Harrington is watching us, and if he sees that stuff...”

“Ugh, I know. He’s not watching Betty and Ned. It’s not fair.”

“To be fair, he didn’t walk in on Betty and Ned playing ‘tonsil hockey’ in the chem lab.” Peter subtly slides Flash’s bag off his arm and onto his.

“Joke’s on him, I don’t have tonsils.” They finally reach the right floor. Flash groans and gasps with exertion. He hasn’t been too active since returning. Fitting in exercise seems impossible when you’re trying to prove that you’re not dead. Peter mimics him until Charles finishes passing them and disappears into his room. “I wish we could have shared a room.”

“We’d both be too sore to enjoy the trip if we did.” Peter winks at him. It seemed like the more they did...stuff together, the more flirty and open Peter got about it. Flash finds that he likes this. A lot. “We’ll just have to find moments to be alone.”

“This is Venice, the most romantic city on Earth. If Harrington and Dell think they can keep us from enjoying each other’s bodies they’re dreaming.”

"...I'm just going to ignore that you called it that. You sound like a fifty-year-old Grandma. Or Cap, which is basically the same thing." Peter grimaces.

“Noted.” Flash and Peter start down the hallway. At least their rooms are close. They’d managed to finagle their way into getting rooms beside each other. They stop in front of the doors, Peter dropping Flash’s bag as gently as he can. The rooms are probably tiny, Flash realizes. If Harrington wanted to save some money, he and Peter could have just shared a one-bed suite. Flash is rooming with Brad, which is kind of weird since the guy looks like a college student, and Peter, surprising no one, is with Ned. Who’s probably still with Betty, his new amour. Perfect. “Hey, babe, if Ned isn’t there...”

“We’ll have to listen for the teachers. And Ned. Think it’s worth it?”

“It might be our only chance to be alone.” Flash pouts, walking slowly over to Peter. He puts his arms on his shoulders. “Please? We can be romantic tomorrow, but right now I want the opposite of that.”

“Hate?”

"Ugh, no Peter, I want raw, animalistic passion." Flash moves closer, close enough to lick Peter's neck. "Don't you, baby?" Peter nods, turning redder than the suit he lied about not packing.

"Oh my god, eww." Ned opens the door in his pyjamas. "I'd say get a room, but looks like that's not an option, is it?"

“I’m so, so sorry Ned, we thought you were still with Betty...” Peter stammers.

"She was tired, so she went to bed. And I thought I was going to do that until I heard...whatever it was that was going on here." Ned yawns. "I'm so tired from the flight, dude. You could probably do it in here after I fall asleep if you're quiet."

“No thanks, we’re good.”

“Yeah,” Flash groans, “mood, killed. Murdered.”

“Whatever. See you in a few, Pete. Night Flash.”

“G’night.” Flash gives Ned a finger wave as the other teen reenters his room. “So, uh, that was...”

“We might have to go without. That’s okay. I’m happy just knowing I’ll be spending time in the most romantic city on Earth with you.” Peter smiles, reaching out and stroking Flash’s cheek.

“Until you have...work things.”

Peter groans. “I hope not. I told Fury I didn’t want to do Spider-Man stuff while I was on vacation.”

“Dude, you said no to Nick Fury?!”

“Yeah?” Peter says, pulling Flash in for a hug. “Why would I want to be Spider-Man while I’m here? Then everyone in class will know! I’m pretty sure a few of them are close to figuring it out, especially after the Washington thing...”

“You’re right, you’re right. So, will I see you at breakfast?” Flash asks hopefully.

“For sure.” Peter leans in for a long, deep, goodnight kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning, babe. I love you.”

“I love you more!” Flash calls as Peter goes into his room, likely hiding the blush Peter gets every time he says that. Flash smiles to himself, grabs his bag, and slips into his own room.

Brad is still up, fiddling with the TV. The guy had really filled out. He's taller than Flash now, and more muscular. If Midtown was a sports-oriented school, he could have played on any team. Unfortunately for him, maybe, sports were secondary to all the nerdy academic stuff. “Oh, hey man. I was hoping to find a soccer game or something, but no luck. Thought this was Europe or something. You’d think they’d have that on constantly like we have of baseball and stuff.”

"Maybe they have weird sports on late at night, like back home," Flash suggests, digging through his bag for his skincare products. Being on vacation is no reason to neglect oneself, he reasons. "Like Italian poker."

“That won’t be bad to fall asleep to.” Brad watches him unpack with a critical eye, thumb hovering over the remote. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah?” _Probably wants to borrow my charger or something._

“Are you dating Peter Parker?” Brad’s tone is even, questioning, but the guy’s at least four inches taller and Flash doesn’t want to get decked. He could scream for Peter, he guesses, but he was his own man. He didn’t need rescuing. Most of the time.

“Yeah?” He replies, his voice cracking.

"Oh, cool," Brad says, smiling to himself. "I thought he was into MJ, but then someone told me you two were together, so..."

“No competition from him, dude. MJ and him, they’re just good friends. Peter and I, we’re in love. Super into each other.”

"I heard," Brad says. "The walls are thin, but I didn't want to assume, you know? Could just be joking around."

“Oh.” Flash scratched the back of his neck. “Nope, that was...not a joke. At all.”

“Good for you, dude.”

“Thanks?”

"If I'm ever leaving for an extended period," Brad hints like he's hoping Flash takes the bait, "I'll let you know and you can have some, uh, alone time. With Peter."

Flash feels both happy he has a cool roommate and like he wants to die. "Thanks, bro."

“No worries.” Brad turns back to the TV. “It’s 2023. We should be accepting now, right?”

“I wish. Someone called us fags the other day.”

“Gross, dude. What did you do?”

“I told him to get blipped. Wish I could just snap my fingers and ‘poof!’ Homophobes and racists gone!”

“That would have solved more problems than blipping half the population.” Brad agrees. “Just blip the shitty people. That Thanos guy was a moron.”

#

Peter’s hand in his is almost as warm as the Venice sun, and Flash seriously underestimated how hot Italy was going to be. He’s grateful that his complexion keeps him from burning easily, but all the fanning of his cotton button-up can’t keep the flush off his face. Seems like even half the world vanishing didn’t mean jack for global warming.

Peter doesn’t appear much better. His cheeks and forearms are already starting to get pink, and his water bottle was empty. Can Peter even get heat stroke? “Maybe you should get a hat or something, babe. You don’t look so good.”

“There’s no way I’m wearing a fedora.” Peter scoffs, pulling the brim of Flash’s rather stylish hat over his eyes. Flash playfully slaps Peter’s hands away. “You look like an old Cuban man.”

“Better that than a neckbeard.”

“You’re not hairy enough to be a neckbeard.” Peter strokes his neck. “Or misogynistic enough.”

“Nah, I love women so much I don’t subject them to my winning personality. I force you to endure it instead.”

"And what a task it is." Peter leans forward for a kiss on the lips, stopping when they both look up and see Mr. Dell shaking his head in their direction. "And to answer your earlier question, I feel fine. Mostly. Do I have a sunburn?" Peter asks, reaching for his water bottle. He frowns at seeing it empty. "I'm mostly thirsty."

"We'll get something to drink." Flash spots a food cart just off the main road. They hold hands as they walk, ignoring Mr. Dell's stare-down. Mr. Harrington is still on the pier, trying futilely to get his camera back from its watery grave. Flash orders something in the best Italian Google Translate offers. The man laughs and gives them two frigid lemonades, telling them in English that he hopes they're enjoying their romantic vacation. Peter almost walks off but Flash holds tight to his hand, thanking the man and assuring that they will.

Flash and Peter grab a bench by the pier and watch some of the boats come in and out. Flash tries to spot a sailboat. Peter moans in relief as he sucks lemonade down his throat like nothing's ever tasted that good. It doesn't make Flash's pants tighter. Not at all. He pulls Peter in for a quick selfie. "Thanks for the drink, sweetheart. I guess I was a little warm."

"Anything for you, Petey." Flash kissed him on the cheek. "Having fun?"

“I guess so. I’m looking forward to going to the museum later.”

“Only you, Parker. Only you would be excited about seeing that.”

"Then why are you here? This is a science field trip.”

“This is a Europe trip without my parents, with my sexy superhero boyfriend.” Flash sips his drink. His is a little sour, but it’s refreshingly cold. “Science is an after-thought, mostly.” He runs his thumb across the back of Peter’s neck, at the soft hairs there.

“Sup nerds.” MJ wanders over to them. “Whatcha doing?”

“Looking at boats, enjoying Italy. You?” Peter asks, brushing hair from his eyes. He’s so cute Flash wants to scream.

“Learning the most perfect word in the world: “bo”.”

“What does that even mean?” Flash scoffs, more to hassle MJ than anything else.

"That's the beauty of it. It can mean anything. It can mean I don't know or get out of my face, or I don't know AND get out of my face..." She smirks. "It's the best thing Italy's ever created, except for maybe espresso."

“And pizza,” Flash adds.

“Italian pizza and American pizza are vastly different, Eugene.” MJ crosses her arms.

“You drink espresso?” Peter adds.

"Eh. It depends on my mood." MJ grins at them. "I'll let you two get back to looking at boats. Remember, anyone comes and tries to take your bench? Bo." She walks off with a finger wave.

“Do you drink espresso?” Peter asks. “What’s it taste like?”

“You think my parents will let me?” He turns back to the boats. They’re moving, which isn’t surprising. They’re just moving funny. Up and down instead of forward, and not just bobbing with the current. “Hey, Pete. Is water supposed to do that?”

“Hmm?” Peter looked over his shoulder. “Nope. It isn’t.”

“Why’s it doing that, then? And is that...is that a face?” Flash stares into the water and watches the face...growl? What the hell? “Peter...”

“I gotta go,” Pete says, as the water starts to stand up. Yeah, water is not supposed to do that. “Shit.”

“What?”

“I left my suit in my room.”

“You WHAT?”

“I didn’t think I’d need it!” Peter protested. “But I gotta...”

“Just go, Peter. You’ll figure something out. Save the city and whatever.” Flash tries not to wet himself as the water pounds a fist on the sidewalk. “Just don’t let anyone see your face, okay?”

"Got it. Stay safe, babe. I love you." Peter kisses him on the lips and runs off into the alley, presumably up the wall and after the creature.

Flash gets inside the closest building, cowering behind a newspaper stand and pointedly not watching the fight outside. He's afraid. It occurs to him this is the first fight Peter's been in since coming back. He never guessed how terrified he'd be. He keeps looking out the now broken window, trying to catch a glimpse of Peter's blue button-up. He has visions of him at the bottom of the canal or splattered against the building. He can't see Peter, he can't see anything through the mist and sprays of water the creature created. He starts to breathe heavily. His chest isn't moving. It's stuck. He can't breathe, he can't see, his head is getting fuzzy and he wants to throw up.

“Hey, kid.” A heavily accented voice spoke to him. A friendly Italian man is shaking his shoulder, giving him his best reassuring smile. “Is alright. There are superheroes outside. It will be fine.”

“Okay,” Flash pants, “okay.”

“Look.” The man points out through the window. Flash follows his finger. There are flashes of green outside, and a bright purple cape flashes in and out of view. That’s not Peter. He doesn’t know who it is. He finds that he doesn’t care. He can see a few webs flapping in the breeze. That makes him feel a little better. Peter was nearby, and that takes his anxiety from being about to puke down to heavy breathing. At least there’s someone out there with Pete, so he doesn’t have to face this thing alone.

#

Flash holds Peter as tight as he can, back at the hotel. Brad leaves the room to watch the TV downstairs, with the others. He’s sure that he’d be hurting Peter if he was a normal human, but Peter just nuzzles into his neck. “I was so scared, babe. I didn’t know what to do, and I couldn't see you, and...”

"It's okay, sweetheart. We're okay." He wrapped his arms around Flash's shoulders. "I'm fine, see? There was this guy there, Mysterio. He helped. He did everything. I just got in the way."

“Good. That’s good.” Flash sniffles a little.

“Don’t cry, honey. I’m safe. The city is safe.” Peter put Flash’s hand over his chest. “See? Still beating.”

“I didn’t know it would be that hard.” Flash rests his chin on Peter’s head. “I thought...”

“If you want to end it, I understand.”

“No, oh my god Peter! It’ll just take some getting used to. That’s all.” Flash kisses the soft hair tickling his nose. “I bet you were so brave.”

“Guess so. I was just focused on protecting you. And Ned, and MJ, and our class, of course.” Peter lifts his head, gently sliding Flash off his crown. “And you’re safe. So it was worth it.” He kisses Flash sweetly, sucking on his bottom lip. Flash nibbles back. Peter moans, tangling his hands in the smooth black strands of Flash’s hair, pulling them closer together. Flash feels something against his thigh as he’s pulled into Peter’s lap. _Adrenaline_ , Flash thinks, _gotta love it_. He’s just about to untuck Peter’s shirt from his khakis (what kind of 16 year old wears khakis?) before something stings the back of his neck and he flops forward. He can hear Peter angrily talking to someone, Fury maybe? (oh my god, Nick Fury is in my hotel room!) but Flash doesn’t have it in him to lift his neck to look. If Peter’s there, he’s safe. Things are just better when he’s around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there folks! 
> 
> I've never been to Italy, so I'm basing this part (and the next chapter) on the movie, my partner telling me about his trip to Italy, and good old Google. Hopefully, it isn't too awful. 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos. It means a lot to me, and I really appreciate it. Love y'all. 
> 
> And we've got a soundtrack! Find it on YouTube https://bit.ly/381d2ok over at Spotify at https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VhtqJXL0FplQYSL2kRVih?si=wFx9BrHgR5CrBeYz6ohYgA


	5. You Really Know how to Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash and Peter accidentally order a drone strike, Flash calls Mysterio a creep, and it turns out he was a little bit right.

**Five:** **You really know how to dance**

Flash’s butt is numb, he’s tired, and, most importantly, he can’t remember the last time he’d actually had fun on this crap fest of a trip. The most obvious person to blame was in the seat next with him, fiddling with a pair of sunglasses, looking pensive, but he couldn’t blame Peter. He’d wanted to get dragged off the itinerary as much as Flash did. It was the life of a superhero, he supposed. Great responsibility and all that.

“You okay, babe?” Flash asks, poking Peter in the side with his elbow. He barely touches the other boy, not wanting to scare him, but Peter doesn’t move. He tries again, putting a bunch of weight into it. Peter yelps, nearly dropping the shades. “Thought you had spidey-sense or something.”

“Spidey-sense is for threats. Your elbow is not a threat.” Peter rolls his eyes. “Sorry. Was I spacing out?”

“Big time.” Flash leans over. Green lenses glint in the midday sun. “Did you know they call those sunnies here?”

"Not these." Peter picks them up with two fingers like Flash imagines one would a glass figurine, like the ones his grandparents have. "These are..." he leans over and whispers, "Mr. Stark left me these. It's called "Edith."

“The sunglasses have a name?”

“They’re not just sunglasses. They’re...well, let me show you.” Peter put them on, leaning into the corner of the seat as non-nonchalantly as possible. “Wanna know what Mr. Dell is looking up on his phone?”

“As long as it’s not porn, yeah.” Flash shrugs.

“Edith,” Peter says to the glasses. A light flashes in the corner, which anyone looking would have mistaken for the reflection of the sun. “Scan the bus.” He leans over, so Flash can see what he sees.

Flash can see some of the display screen on the inside of the lenses from his seat. Peter can see what everyone is doing on their phone. Mr. Dell is looking up...witches? Brad is looking up how to get girls to like him. He seems to catch the two looking and awkwardly waves at them. Flash waves back, Peter flushes a deep red.

"Why are you blushing?"

“Remember that blonde lady I told you about?” Peter whispers.

“Yeah?”

“So Brad walked in when I was changing into the clothes she brought me. I got her to hide behind a barrel, but he saw me with my pants half down.” Peter giggles like a schoolgirl and it’s extremely endearing.

“That explains why he was so awkward earlier. When we were getting back on the bus he gave me a bro clap on the shoulder and said ‘nice’. I guess he...liked what he saw? I was really confused, but I think I get it now.”

“I think he’s a little confused.” Peter laughs.

“You must not have a mirror at your house, because I feel like most people would say that about you. All that heroism does a body good.” Flash leans over to kiss Peter’s neck.

Peter shivers, pushing him off. “Behave. The teachers are right there.”

"One's looking up stuff about witches because he's paranoid. The other one..." They look at Mr. Harrington. He's texting with someone who looks eerily similar to him—his sister, probably. Maybe his brother, the short hair makes it hard to tell. Peter's gaze wanders to his best friend. Ned and Betty are texting each other that they miss each other. While they're sitting together. "If I ever start doing that, please break up with me. I'd deserve it."

“I’ll stick to texting you memes.”

They’ve been staring at Ned and Betty for an awkwardly long time, but they don’t look up. “See? No one’s paying attention.”

“Still.”

Flash flops back in his seat. “So, what else can those fancy glasses do, ice queen?”

"I'm going to ignore that. But I don't know." Peter plays with the hinges of the glasses, turning it over and over in his hands. "I think Mr. Stark had drones or something. There are some satellites too." Peter shrugs, like having access to those things is no big deal.

“Drones? Satellites?”

“Who knows what else.”

“Dude. Let’s spy on celebrities.”

“Gross. No!”

“Why not? Don’t you want to watch Hugh Jackman shower? Watch Natalie Portman get dressed?”

Peter blushes at the ‘Hugh Jackman’ more than Natalie Portman, which is very telling. “That’s a massive invasion of privacy, and not very heroic, and really, really weird.”

“How about other superheroes?”

“Oh my god, no.”

“Oooh, how about the Fantastic Four?”

“No. I’m pretty sure Reed Richards helped build these, we won’t get close enough to see anything. And I want him to like me.”

“Dork.”

“Shut up.”

“Ooh, we don’t have to spy on those guys. We can look at, like, mysterious things. What about this big manor just outside the city? We drive past it all the time, but no one knows who lives there...”

“I do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And I don’t want to mess with them.”

“Are they...bad guys?”

“I mean, some people think so, but they’re wrong. It’s a school, I think?”

“Is it...a school for superheroes?”

“Kind of?”

“Pete, you gotta give it to me straight. Is there, or is there not, superheroes living at this gigantic mansion in upstate New York?”

“I think so. J. Jonah Jameson doesn’t agree.”

J. Jonah Jameson isn’t a fan of superheroes in the first place, so that doesn’t surprise him, but Flash tries to remember some of the stories of the last week. He was reading something on his phone while he was trying to fall asleep. Honestly, half of JJJ’s articles are the same diatribe about Spider-Man, and mutants, especially because he thinks Spider-Man is a mutant, and therefore...“Wait...you know the X-men? They live there?”

"Yes!" Peter hisses, pulling Flash down to keep his quiet. "Kind of. I've met Wolverine and Iceman. They're pretty cool, but the X-men are really private. You know what people think about mutants. If I try to spy on them with a drone and they catch me, it'll mess up Avengers/X-men relations, and then Captain Marvel will be mad at me and I’m terrified of her."

“Fair.” Flash huffs. “So what do we do with them?”

“Save the world?”

“Yeah, but is there anything fun to do with them?”

“I think you can do drone strikes.”

“Like Call of Duty?”

“Yeah. Let’s say, hypothetically, that you wanted to launch a strike on...” Peter looks around the bus, “Brad, for example...”

#

"Look, a mountain goat!" Flash mocks as Peter gets back in his seat. "What the hell, Peter? That's so stupid!"

“It worked, didn’t it?” Peter huffs. “What were you thinking?”

“What was _I_ thinking? You’re the one with murder shades!” Flash snaps. He takes a few deep breaths. Everything is fine. He’s safe. Peter’s safe. The bus is safe, and they’re still on the boredom express to Prague. As for the road behind him, well...he’s heard that the infrastructure is better in Europe. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Peter seems to have done the same thing. His chest, at least, has finally stopped heaving. “We’re both idiots. We shouldn’t have messed around with these. I’m going to keep them in my backpack so we’re not tempted, alright?” He shoves the brown leather case (and Flash is sure it’s real leather) into the folds of his backpack, under his spidey suit. “But that was kind of fun, right?”

"If almost dying is fun. Which, I guess, kind of?" Flash laughs, resting his head against the seat. Peter takes his hand and holds it tight. "I told you we should have tried to spy on the X-men."

"Yeah. What would they be able to do from New York?"

 _‘More than you’d think, Mr. Parker, Mr. Thompson’,_ they hear a great booming voice, with just the barest hint of an English accent. _‘No need to spy on us, my friends. Logan and Bobby both vouch for you, Mr. Parker. I would hate to think they were wrong about the content of your character. Please, stop by the manor whenever you like, my students would be delighted to meet Spider-Man. And his friend.’_

Flash’s eyes go wide. His heart starts beating. “Was that...God?”

“I think you just met Professor X, Flash.” Peter smiles at him. It’s a little strained, like the man is still in his head, but his eyes are bright. They share a look mixing excitement, terror and confusion and sit in silence for the rest of the bus ride.

#

Flash is pretty sure his vacation is going to be ruined, Peter’s assurances be damned.

It's not Nick Fury tranqing him and leaving him a heap on the floor (which, to be clear, is one of the coolest things that's ever happened to him) and then basically kidnapping Peter. It isn't the elemental or whatever attacks. It's not the fact that, due to these attacks, the class's itinerary keeps changing and taking them to random-ass cities in Europe to do random ass things that have nothing to do with science or fun.

It’s Quentin-goddamn-Beck.

Flash sits across from Peter on his bed at the new hotel. Soft music drifts in from the plaza below. There always seems to be music somewhere, in Europe. Ned’s down at supper with Betty, and Flash could kiss the girl for giving him this alone time with Peter. The problem is, this is the first time they’ve been alone together in days and all Peter can talk about is freaking Mysterio.

"And then he, like, banked to the left to get out of the way, and used his...I don't know if it's science or magic, he tried to explain it to me and I didn't get it, maybe technology just works differently in his dimension or something, but he did this cool thing where he..."

“When do you want supper?” Flash asks, scrolling through Instagram on his phone. Even that’s not a break from his current plague. Half the people he follows from school seem to be posting crappy smart-phone pictures and videos of Mysterio. He shuts the screen off. “Dining room closes at eight.”

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Peter asks, moving into a cross-legged position.

“Kind of, yeah? All you’ve talked about for the past two days is Mysterio. You’re always going ‘Mr. Beck this’ and ‘Mr. Beck that’...It’s almost as bad as when you were working for Mr. Sta--”

“Don’t say it.” Peter narrows his eyes. “Don’t.”

Flash sighs. That was a low blow, and he knows that. “I’m sorry. I just...look, there’s something I don’t trust about him, that’s all.”

“It sounds like you’re jealous.” Peter pokes him in the cheek. When Flash doesn’t smile in response, he continues. “Come on, admit it. You’re jealous.”

“I’m not.” He is. “You don’t think he’s just a little weird?”

“I mean, he’s kind of awkward, but things are probably different in his dimension. Socially, I mean.”

"He wears a fishbowl on his head. No normal people do that."

"It's a helmet! It helps him breathe! I think!" Peter's starting to get loud, starting to talk faster. "It might just be a fashion thing, but come on! You wore a fedora the other day!"

“He seems really keen to hang around a kid. Didn’t you talk to him on the roof last night? Alone?” Flash stresses. He’s not jealous. It’s just a safety risk, that’s all. Peter might not land on his feet if he tripped.

“Yeah. He was giving me advice. About you, too. I told him I had a boyfriend and he was telling me how to balance being a superhero and being a committed partner. So there.” Peter sticks out his tongue.

“Didn’t Drake get in shit for doing something like that?” Flash crosses his arms.

“What are you trying to say, exactly?” Peter gets off the bed to stand in front of him. Peter’s not that tall, not really, but the gesture is still intimidating. Flash glares at him, setting his phone down on the comforter beside him.

“I think he’s a pedo, dude.”

“What?” Peter sputters. “No! Eww, that’s so gross, dude. That’s...are you high? Is that what’s going on?”

“I’m completely sober.” Not by his choice. Mr. Dell and Mr. Harrington made sure no one at the hotel, or anywhere close by, would accept their IDs. “You better watch yourself around him. Don’t let him give you alcohol or anything. Did he give you something at the bar?”

“He’s a superhero! Superheroes don’t molest teenagers.”

“No one thought priests would touch kids, either. And that happened.”

“We’ve been alone together twice now, and he didn’t try anything.”

“He’s probably waiting to get you _alone_ alone. Like, “come to my hotel room and talk strategy alone. Who knows, maybe being a pedophile is normal in his dimension. Maybe he’s going to take you back there to get married or something.”

“Oh my god, that's gross! He's not like that!” Peter’s face starts to resemble a raspberry, puckered and red.

“I don’t know, man.” He sighs, running a hand through his dark curls. “Seems like a weirdo to me.”

“Are you sure you’re not bitter?” Peter asks, raising an eyebrow. "You don't sound jealous anymore. You just sound salty."

That wasn’t true. Flash wasn’t bitter at all. Flash wasn’t bitter that Peter went to the bar with Beck right after saving people as “the Night Monkey.” He wasn’t bitter that Peter wouldn’t shut up about Mr. Beck. He wasn’t bitter that Mr. Beck had awesome powers and probably could protect Peter, whereas all he could do was run and hide. He definitely, definitely wasn’t bitter that Mr. Beck looked like a movie star, and he looked like...well, like Flash. “He likes to spend a lot of time with a kid. Alone. Sounds like a pedo to me.”

“He respects me as a fellow hero! He thinks I’m really smart!”

“Grooming.”

Peter groans, but his hand clenches, balling into a fist. "It's not grooming. He's not interested. He's just a cool mentor guy. He'll go back to his dimension and I'll stay here. I thought you'd think he was cool."

 _He was_ , Flash thought, _until he started complimenting my boyfriend and spending more time with him than I get to!_ “He’s fine, I guess. But he’s no Spider-Man.”

Peter sat back down. “You really mean that?”

“You’ve been my favourite forever, dude. You’re strong, and smart, and brave, and kind. He’s...well, I don’t know jack about him, but there’s no way he’s more like that than you. No one’s more like that than you.”

“Dance with me?” Peter stands, holding out his hand to Flash. Flash takes it, Peter yanking him to his feet a bit harder than necessary. Peter takes one hand in his and wraps the other around Flash’s shoulders, burying his face in his neck. Flash mimics him, resting his chin on Peter’s shoulder. He’d been taller, he remembered, in middle school. Despite Peter’s spider-growth spurt, they’re the same height. Peter’s hair smells like sweat and hotel shampoo. His cheek is soft against his.

“This is just like middle school, ‘cept no one’s telling us to leave room for Jesus.”

Peter laughs and pulls him closer, swaying with the music playing outside their window. His eyes are always beautiful, but they’re perfect in the moonlight. Peter’s perfect. His arms are shaking from exertion and his grip is damp but he’s so warm and alive and soft. They both lift their heads at the same time, Flash going in for a chaste kiss. Peter deepens it, forgetting about dancing to hold Flash’s head steady with both hands. Mr. Beck may get to help Peter fight crime, but Flash knows he’s the only person who gets to see Peter like this.

“You know I love you, right?” Peter asks softly.

“Yeah.”

“And I’d never cheat on you.”

“If you think he’d try to make you cheat, he’s probably a...”

“He’s not.” Peter shakes his head. “Can you please just drop it? It’s...weird. I'm not going to be able to think about anything else next time I see him. It's going to be AWKWARD.”

“He's not Mr. Stark either, Petey." Flash looks Peter in the eyes, stroking the hair at Peter's temple. A tear runs down Peter's cheek. Flash wipes it away with a thumb. "Mr. Stark was a good person. He cared about you. He wanted you to be happy. You barely know Mr. Beck. I just don't want you to attach yourself to him when he's gotta leave back to his home dimension when all this is done."

“You're right," Peter whispers. "I miss him. I thought I could take my mind off of him, but I can't. I'm trying so hard to make him proud. I thought...when Uncle Ben died, I knew I was making him proud, by being Spider-Man and keeping up with school. And I miss him too, so much that it hurts sometimes, and I just want someone to tell me I'm doing a good job because I'm so scared I'm not."

“And everyone who told you that you were is gone.”

“Yeah.”

“Except for Mr. Beck."

“Yeah.”

“I think May’s plenty proud of you. I’m proud of you. Hell, I’m sure MJ and Ned are too. You don’t need to fawn over some weird boomer guy just because he’s nice to you. You’re Peter Parker. That’s something to be proud of.”

“Thanks, babe." Peter kisses him on the cheek. "I needed that."

“And Mr. Beck is probably a sex-weirdo, so there’s that too.”

“Dude!” Peter pushes away from him.

“What? He gives me weird vibes. Respect the vibes.” Flash pulls Peter back to him, dropping him for a quick dip.

Peter laughs a little. “I have spidey-sense. I trust that a little more than your ‘vibes’.”

“Can you really tell me he doesn’t make you feel weird? Like, not pedo weird, but just...off?” Flash asks. “I don’t think you can trust him. Be careful.”

“Don’t need to be,” Peter responds, “Beck’s a good guy.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

#

As he watches Peter run headfirst into a drone army, Flash can’t help but think that he’s never been so unhappy about being completely right.

Mostly right. 

Peter is too trusting. He’s dating his former bully, for Christ sake. Flash saw through Mr. Beck from a mile away. He was just wrong about the motivation. He thought the guy was a creep. It turned out he was just manipulative and evil. Just. Ha. Like that was so minor compared to being a child molester. It was almost worse. He didn’t have any psycho-sexual bullshit going on. He just wanted to get back at a dead guy by hurting a living, breathing kid. What a douchebag. Flash wants to run after Peter, drag him back and let someone else handle it, but he’s nowhere near as fast. He stops midway down the street, panting, looking up at the “show”. He’s gotta give it to Mysterio. The man knows how to make anything look real.

Like genuine friendship.

That thought alone almost unfreezes him and propels him forward, post-blip worn-down muscles be damned, but a dude in a suit grabs him by the collar and yanks him back. “What are you doing, Eugene?”

“Don’t call me that!” He snaps, struggling with the hold. “Let me go, damn it!” Then, as if in slow motion, he realizes that this random guy knows his real name. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“I work for Spider-Man. He may have mentioned me. I’m Happy.” The suit-guy, Happy apparently, lets him go.

He’s pretty sure Peter’s mentioned him before. If Peter hasn’t, May probably has, since the name is familiar. Now he can put a face to it. “Okay, cool. But how do you know _my_ name?”

“Peter doesn’t stop talking. Ever.”

“No,” Flash shakes his head, “he doesn’t.”

"I know you have a nickname that you go by. I would too if I was named Eugene."

“Says the man named “Happy”.”

“Touche. I used your real name so you’d know that I’m not with the fish-bowled freak up there.” Happy gestures at the giant storm of drones overhead. “You’ve gotta come with me. Peter thinks you might be in danger.”

“What? Why? I thought that a-hole just hated Peter. And Tony Stark.”

“We don’t have time for this.” Happy huffs. “Come with me. We need to find Peter’s other friends and get you somewhere safe.”

Somewhere safe turns out to be barricaded in the armoury of an old castle. He isn't sure how safe they really are in there. There's nowhere to run if something were to get into the room. And there are no windows. He can't see Peter. He needs to see Peter. He starts pacing. He starts biting his nails. MJ spares him a pitying look. This is worse than the water elemental attack. Much worse. Knowing Peter's out there, trying to stop something specifically targeting them, risking his life, makes him dizzy. He slides down the wall.

“Hey.” MJ sits next to him. “You gotta get it together. Freaking out doesn’t help.” _It doesn't help Peter_ hangs in the air between them.

“I know, but...”

She leans to his ear. “This is going to happen. A lot. Are you sure you can handle it?”

“I thought I could, but I’m so worried. I know he can protect himself, but...”

“Enough buts. No more buts. The but is dead.” MJ pats his leg. “You know what would help him? Grab a weapon, get ready to fight and stand up. If you’re worried about him protecting you, at least try to protect yourself.”

The door rattles.

Flash obeys. He grabs the closest object, but he can’t lift it. His arms feel like noodles. Betty rolls her eyes and grabs a halberd, gesturing for Flash to get behind her. He doesn’t. If he’s going to be killed by a Stark drone operated by a man wearing a fishbowl on his head, he’s going to do it standing on his feet like a man.

The door starts to rattle again. Beck has sent another drone. Drones, but the sound of it. He doesn’t know when to give up. Flash trusts MJ and her mace, and Betty’s spear has some good range to it, but he and Ned are sitting ducks. Why doesn’t Happy have a gun? The door rattles again, the high-pitched whine of the drones cutting through the door deafeningly loud to Flash’s anxious mind.

“I wasted my life playing video games, and we’re going to die!” Ned whines.

“Nobody’s dying on my watch,” Happy attempts to reassure them. It doesn’t work. Flash and his classmates start panicking more.

The whole room shakes. Rubble rains down from the ceiling. “I have a fake ID,” Betty exclaims, “and I’ve never even used it!”

"I post stupid videos every day to get people to like me, and the only person I care about liking me is Peter!" Flash says, despite himself. "Oh my God. I don't know where Peter is. Oh my God," he whimpers. "I just wanted to make out once more before I die!"

"Eww." Ned grimaces.

Flash tries to force images of Peter out of his head. It isn't helping. He keeps seeing his smile, hearing his laugh, looking at his questionable fashion choices..."I love Peter, but I hate his t-shirts! They're the worst!"

“Hey, if it wasn’t for those stupid videos, it would have been much harder to find you. For Spider-Man.” Happy clarifies. “And stop freaking out, okay? Peter’s probably fine.”

“I saved us!”

“If you saved us,” snaps MJ, “why are we about to die?!” Everyone starts yelling at MJ. Flash starts to hyperventilate again. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m obsessed with telling the truth even if it hurts other people’s feelings?”

“Do you hate Peter’s shirts too?”

“Yes! The puns are so stupid! I tell him all the time!”

“I’m in love with Spider-Man’s aunt.” Happy admits, pinching his eyes closed, evidently preparing for death. MJ, Ned and Betty turn, very slowly, to look at him. Flash just stares ahead. May looks good for her age, but...eww. Just, eww. “We’re sharing?” Happy offers by way of explanation.

A final sonic blast knocks one of the hinges loose. _Peter won’t fail us,_ Flash tells himself. _Peter won’t fail us, Peter won’t fail us, Peter won’t fail us, Peter won’t fail us..._

_Peter is Spider-Man. And Spider-Man is the best superhero ever._

Something drops outside. The cutting stops. Flash almost drops to his knees in relief. Peter won. Peter saved them all.

After it's over, and Peter gives Happy the all-clear, Flash bursts from the room and sprints down the street. He needs to know that Peter's alive. He needs to see him. He needs him to know that he did good and that he saved everyone.

Peter limps towards him from between crashed cars. Flash tackles him into a hug and just holds him, breathing him in.

“Is everyone okay?” Peter asks.

“Yeah, they’re fine. Everyone’s fine. What about you?”

“What happened?”

“Drones. We ran, and we hid, but they almost got us, and...” Flash holds Peter’s face in his hands, beaming at him. “You saved us. I knew you would.”

“I couldn't save everyone,” Peter says quietly.

“What do you mean? I’m fine, Happy’s fine, MJ, Ned and Betty are all fine.”

“Mr. Beck is dead,” Peter croaks. _Good,_ Flash thinks but doesn’t say. “He got shot by one of the drones. He died before I could get him help. If he hadn’t tried to shoot me, maybe I would have been able to. But he died. Right in front of me. Just like Ben.”

Flash understands instantly. “I’m sorry,” he says, for both losses.

“I messed up.” Peter clenches his fists.

"No. You did good. You did so good." Flash hugs him again, tucking Peter's head into his shoulder. He takes in the scene around him. There are drones everywhere, some of them still sparking. Glass and debris from the bridge litter the ground, and half the cars have smashed bumpers and shattered windshields. The air smells like concrete and blood. Peter won't stop shaking. "He made a bad choice. You didn't do that. I mean it, Pete. You did good."

“Thanks.”

Flash hugs him tighter. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah,” Peter whispers, flopping forward into his arms, trusting that Flash can hold him. He does. He keeps him upright long enough to get changed and get to a paramedic. He thinks he spots Fury in a crowd, but the man vanishes like he was never there.

The ride to the airport is a blur. He remembers getting in the SHIELD car, he remembers checking his bags and going through customs, but any details in between are a blur. It all hits him, sitting in the airport waiting for their flight. Peter is sleeping on his shoulder, covered in bandages beneath his shirt, leaving a little puddle of drool on his shirt. It’s so innocent, and so typical, that it seems so out of place with all the shenanigans that took up their vacation. This is his new normal. Watching Peter run into danger. Watching him get hurt. Watching, always watching. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe he should put a little more faith in his boyfriend, that he’ll always try to come back. He wins more than he loses. He spots Edith in Peter’s shirt pocket. Mr. Stark chose this boy to carry on his legacy. And he chose well.

He’ll take Peter to the museum when they get home. Maybe they can salvage some of this summer. Maybe the beach, once his bandages are off.

Peter stirs, waking for a few moments of lucidity before dropping back into sleep. He murmurs something that Flash almost misses, but he’s learning to recognize “I love you” murmured, whispered, sobbed and mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell that I'm excited that Disney owns Fox, and therefore X-men and Fantastic Four? Because I am! I can't wait for Spidey to meet Ice-Man or Wolverine, or the professor, or Reed Richards, or Johnny Storm....omgosh, I'm excited. If it doesn't happen, I'm going to be really sad. 
> 
> Because X-men is my favourite Marvel anything, I had to write them in. I like the idea of Professor X just using Cerebro real casual, picking up someone mentioning his house, and deciding to give them a little talk. 
> 
> Poor Flash. I'd also be concerned if my partner was spending a lot of time with someone as hot as Jake Gyllenhaal. I'd be hiding in the bush making sure there was no funny business.
> 
> Quentin Beck...god, I knew what was coming, and it STILL hurt. Of course, Tom's acting really sells it, and everyone involved in this movie did a great job. 
> 
> I've got one more chapter for you guys--an epilogue, to wrap it up nicely. Like an after credits scene, if you will. Thank you all for going on this journey with me. :)


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post identity reveal, Flash and Peter explore their new normal.

**Epilogue**

The ride through the upstate New York countryside is beautiful this time of year, Flash muses. It’s not cold enough yet for the trees to be bare, and the colourful leaves seem to glow in the late autumn sunlight. Bright reds, oranges and yellows stream past the Mercedes windows, dancing through the air or gently twirling down from sky-reaching branches. He moves to roll down the window, see the sights without the glass discolouring the perfect fall view.

"Don't touch that," Happy warns. "This was Mr. Stark's car, I don't know if that button rolls down the window. It might launch a missile."

“Shit, really?”

“No.” Happy laughs. “I’m messing with you. Roll it down.”

Flash rolls it down and breathes in the fresh air. It refreshes him, lungful after lungful of a soothing breeze. He'd been stuck in the safe-house for a couple of months and was already going stir-crazy. SHIELD closely monitored the entire Thompson family's internet activity, and Jesse hogged the only TV. He'd already seen more "Nailed It" than he'd ever cared to see, but it was better than re-reading the Harlequins in the bathroom. At least the agent assigned to watch them played a good round of cards. "How're your parents?" Happy asks when he rolls the window back up.

“Good. Mom finally has time to finish this sweater she started knitting when I was ten, and Dad gets to paint every day.”

“Seems like a vacation.”

“It isn’t.”

“I know. I was...look, this is hard for everyone. You’re not the only people we had to relocate.”

"My siblings got pulled out of school. I guess one was teaching but still counts. Mom and Dad had so many patients to refer. It's...god, I hate Beck."

“Yeah,” Happy says, pulling into a driveway that emerges from the ground in front of them, “his albums are mediocre and just sell for their weirdness.”

“...what?”

“Kids today. No appreciation for the classics.” Happy parks the car and turns around. “We’re here.”

“Yeah, no duh.” An agent jogs over to the car and opens the door for both of them. It’s a nice touch, Flash thinks. It’s almost like he’s getting a valet at a fancy restaurant instead of visiting his boyfriend at a secret SHIELD compound.

The hallway is stagnant, unlike the drive. The same grey walls without windows or paintings, the same slightly darker grey floor, the same agent leading them through the never-ending maze of narrow halls. “How’s the family, Willis?”

"Good." The agent eyes Flash suspiciously. Yeah, like he's going to spill the oh-so-exciting details of Willis's life to any villain who threatens him. "My youngest just got her first tooth."

“Congratulations, she’s growing up so fast.” Happy checks his phone quickly and slides it back into his pocket. “Mrs. Stark. We have a meeting with the legal team tomorrow.” Flash shrugs and sticks his hands in his pocket. He’s had a “meeting with the legal team tomorrow” every visit for the past two months. He feels bad for the lawyers, mostly. They’ve gotta be working overtime.

They stop before a familiar door. Flash can’t pinpoint why he recognizes this door versus the other 500 black doors in the rat maze hidden underneath the Avenger's facility. The roof isn't shaking today, so Dr. Hulk must be giving lectures somewhere. Willis gives him a brief pat-down and then scans him with a blue laser that he swears SHIELD didn't steal from Men in Black. The agent knocks twice before opening the door. "Standard check-ins every two hours."

“What if we put a sock on the doorknob?”

Happy very pointedly stares at the floor.

“Standard check-ins,” Willis repeats, “every two hours.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Flash rolls his eyes. Agent Fitz at his bunker swears they’re not in prison, but it feels like it. Willis knocks twice before opening the door, letting Flash enter without another word.

Peter looks up from his bed. He's wearing standard SHIELD issue clothes, and black doesn't quite suit him. Especially when he's smiling and opening his arms, standing up and letting Flash walk into a big hug. "Hey, babe. I missed you." Peter pulls back and kisses Flash on the nose.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” Flash nuzzles their noses together, a smile matching Peter’s on his face. His mouth is starting to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. God, Peter smells even better than the autumn air. His muscles are even firmer than the last time they saw each other two weeks ago, probably due to Peter’s compulsive exercising to stave off boredom and anxiety. Whatever. It’s given Flash some great selfies to savour. “So...anything new?”

“No. We’re still in the discovery stage. They’re gathering evidence from my body cam, from surveillance footage, from Quentin Beck’s previous arrests...”

“Previous arrests? How did he even get hired at Stark Industries?”

“They were for petty theft and vandalism. Mr. Stark would have looked past that stuff. That was the kind of person he was.” Peter gave him a small smile. “And those were the _only_ crimes he was arrested for.”

"So...he's not a diddler?"

"Oh my god Flash, no." Peter rolls his eyes. 

"I'm glad you brought it up because I was going to ask." Flash grins, letting go of Peter to sit on the bed. At least Peter had his own TV. "Does it look good?"

“Yes and no. I kind of gave him Edith, so that looks pretty bad, but they’re going to use my therapy sessions as evidence that I wasn’t in my right mind when that happened.” Peter belly flops onto the bed. The mattress didn’t move. The bed didn’t even move. Flash felt sorry for Peter’s back. “I hate that all this stuff is just going to be out there, you know? I never wanted this. And now my friends are in safe houses, I can’t go on the internet without it being monitored, and I’ve had three burner phones. This week.” Peter looks up at him. “But that’s not important right now.”

"It is."

“But I don’t want us to spend the whole day talking about lawyers and defense strategies and all that stuff. I want to spend it with you.” Peter belly crawled over to him, putting his head in Flash’s lap. Flash immediately starts petting his soft hair. “Really with you. Not zoning out or freaking out.”

“Whatever you need, sweetheart.” Flash rubs the soft hair on Peter’s neck. Peter relaxes into the touch, wheezing softly. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? We’re going to be fine.”

“I’m never going to live a normal life again.” Peter sighs. “All I’m ever going to be is Spider-Man.”

“No offence dude, but I don’t think you were ever going to have a normal life. You’d still be Spider-Man, whether people knew about it or not.” Peter sits up, sensing the seriousness in his tone. “You chose to be a superhero. The instant you did that, you signed away any hope of normal. Maybe you weren’t prepared for what that meant since you were, like, fourteen, but I’m pretty sure even Mr. Stark didn’t know what being Iron-Man would lead to. I can’t pretend I know what you’re going through. But I do know that you were the right person to get these powers.”

Peter is silent for a moment. Flash is a little concerned he’d died sitting up until Peter takes a deep breath in and a very long exhale. “You’re right. I can’t pretend that I didn’t know what could happen. I just wish I didn’t have to hide in here like a coward.”

“You will literally get shot if you leave.” Flash laughs awkwardly, trying to break the tension. He didn’t want their day together to be this, either. “I like you with the right number of holes.”

“I bet you do.” Peter jabs him with an elbow like a middle-school kid asking their friend if they liked a girl. He tries to waggle his eyebrows suggestively but he looks more like having a seizure. Flash can’t stop laughing, and neither can Peter. When they finally catch their breaths, Flash looks him in his perfect blue eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“It’s going to be okay.”

Peter smiles. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Good.” Flash clears his throat. “Now that that’s settled, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t care,” Peter snuggles into his side, “as long as I’m beside you.”

"Trust me, Spidey." Flash grabs the remote from the nearby white nightstand and turns on the TV, leaning against the wall and settling in against the wall, enjoying the warmth of Peter against him. It just feels right. Despite the craziness of the outside world, when he's next to Peter things seem warm and bright. "You're stuck with me because I'm not letting you go."

“Then don’t,” Peter noses at his neck and kisses at his cheek. “Don’t let me go.”

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand....we're done. 
> 
> I truly believe Nailed It! will still be making new content in 2020 something. One can only hope. I love you, Nicole Byers. Never change. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's read this, or left kudos, or a comment. It's meant so much that people like this sequel (I've never done a sequel to a fanfiction before, so I'm glad that folks out there really responded to it because it's truly been a joy to write this. Bless you all. I love you. Don't ever change. 
> 
> And we've got a soundtrack! Find it on YouTube https://bit.ly/381d2ok and over at Spotify at https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VhtqJXL0FplQYSL2kRVih?si=wFx9BrHgR5CrBeYz6ohYgA


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